


You Will Remember

by sapphireswimming



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Gen Work, Ghost Zone (Danny Phantom), Musicians, One Shot, The Nature of Ghosts, the creative process
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-24
Updated: 2011-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphireswimming/pseuds/sapphireswimming
Summary: Ghost Writer discovers a set of lyrics that would be perfect for Ember to sing. When she refuses to even consider them, he just doesn't understand why...
Relationships: Ghost Writer & Ember McLain
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Collabs and Challenges with DannyPhantomSG1





	You Will Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6987808/11/Phantasmic-Image
> 
> DannyPhantomSG1's (@Danny Phantom SG-1 on fanfiction.net) corresponding oneshot collection was originally posted here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6972859/1/Informal-Inspirations
> 
> Prompt: _"Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, / And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor."_ \- The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

The Ghost Writer absently picked up the manila envelope lying on the table—he hated papers being disorganized—and began to thumb through its contents to pass the time as he sat on the table and waited for his semi-quasi-pseudo-employer-slash-partner-slash-ward-slash-friend to come back from her break so they could resume their work.

What he read on the page he had flipped to, however, immediately threw all other thoughts out the window. He did not care about their project anymore; he was mesmerized by the words in front of him, pouring over them again and again in the few minutes he had.

She soon returned, heading straight for her guitar, not even noticing that Ghost Writer had not followed her lead to take his usual station just off-stage. In fact, he had not even looked her way when she came back.

But as she turned to his usual place asking if he was ready to begin again, his empty chair was quite conspicuous. She rolled her eyes and set her guitar down.

Oh God. He had probably gotten lost in another Austen or Gaskell novel. She really worried about him sometimes…

But, no, she remembered that he had brought his Poe anthology with him today. At least that was a little better. She was still new to this whole being a ghost thing, but she was pretty sure that spooky rather than sappy was the way to go.

She saw him over in the break room, his nose stuck in a book, just as she suspected.

Great. Now she would have to drag him away from the _Raven_ or the _Tell-Tale Heart_. And she actually wanted to get some work done tonight…

She admired the guy, she really did, and she was grateful for all he had done and continued to do for her, but sometimes, he went a little overboard on the literature.

She walked over to him with a friendly scowl on her face, but froze when she recognized what was in his hands.

It was definitely not his Poe anthology.

In a flash, she had snatched the folder away from him, frantically rearranging its contents and closing it before glaring at the man, both angry and embarrassed.

He tried to stir himself out of his amazement to deal with the situation at hand, although it seemed to be a losing battle. He found that he was tongue-tied, although that probably was not the worst thing that could have happened to him at that moment. Perhaps it was even a good thing that he was unable to come back with a witty reply that would only enflame her more.

He knew from the past several months that the young ghost was easily ticked off and was not pleasant to deal with when she was upset and her hair was blazing bright blue.

Thankfully, he noted, she had not gained any ecto-rays or powers of that sort yet, but she was still in the critical development stage and any unbalance of emotions, especially when it came to her obsession, could set her off and trigger a new power.

It paid to be cautious while she was upset.

And right now she was positively _fuming_.

He understood that she had the right to be upset with him— he had looked through her private work, after all—but was thoroughly confused by the second emotion emanating from her.

Embarrassment when someone else saw your work? But was not that what it was for? To be read and adored by the world?

Hmm… maybe it was a new-ghost thing. That would explain why he did not understand it. Or it could be a girl thing. That too.

"Don't you _ever_ look through my stuff again!"

It was the first time that the meek ghost, who was currently leaning backwards before her wrath, had ever felt at all scared of the girl. He did not like the feeling and wondered for a moment what he had gotten himself into. Perhaps he should not have taken her under his wing. He had no idea what he was doing—gosh, it was practically like raising a kid—and this only proved that fact. And looking back, it probably was not the best idea to get caught up in that paper once he realized what it was. But there was no changing that now…

Ember continued to seethe as he blinked at her from behind his glasses, his mouth hanging open as he gaped, unable to coherently form any of the words he wanted to say.

"I… I don't understand…"

"Well let me fix that. This is mine." She shook the folder at him and spoke very slowly to accentuate every syllable. "It's private. And if you ever dare to look at its contents ever again without my permission first, my guitar penetrating your thick skull will be the last sound you ever hear."

He began to chuckle; that was not quite what he had meant to say. Goodness, his way with words was slipping today. But it was nothing he could not fix.

"No… not that… I understand it being your work… heh… writer and all… but, I don't understand why… why you asked me to come and work with you."

She blinked in surprise, obviously not expecting this seemingly abrupt change of subject.

She backed down from her aggressive stance and answered him it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Because I need a lyricist."

"But you don't! That…" he waved at the folder tucked securely under her arm. "What I just read… that was… incredible." In a move that was completely out of character for him, he fumbled for words and began to gesture animatedly in order to make up for it. "Those were perfect lyrics. They were pure. They were poignant. They were powerful. And they were your own words!"

She stared at him without saying anything, so he continued.

"Sing those! You don't need me to come up with half baked lyrics for you. Not when you can come up with words like that."

Ember stood like she had either turned into a statue or had gone into an advanced state of shock. When she had not moved for nearly a full minute, he began to worry that he had said or done something very wrong. He had not thought so. But sometimes he did not do a very good job of thinking things through.

Then another thought struck him.

Maybe something was actually wrong with her. Maybe this was something that happened to new ghosts. He tried to recall if anything had happened to him back whenever he had found himself only a few months old in the Zone, but that was so long ago now that he found he could not recall if there were any side effects he should be remembering.

Panicking, he moved forward to see if she was alright and that motion finally seemed to break her out of whatever trance-like state she had entered.

"Ember?" He knew she responded better when people actually addressed her by her name and hoped it would help with whatever was going on. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…" She blinked a few times before giving him a small, pained smile as she softly shook her head. "But I'll never be singing those words."

And… that was not what he was expecting to hear. At all.

He tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow.

"Why ever not?"

She kept her eyes on the folder when she finally answered him with a whisper.

"Because it's me."

He was about to clarify what she meant by that quiet remark when she began walking toward the stage. As she turned to face him, he could tell by her stance and the look on her face that their discussion on that particular topic was over.

And he would be in a heck of a lot of trouble if he decided to continue talking.

She had already found that the fist setting on her guitar packed quite a punch and even his long experience as a ghost would not give him an edge over her since his only weapon was his typewriter. What could he do—write terrible song lyrics until she was forced to give up? Please; she would destroy the thing in less than ten seconds. At least, she thought so, anyway. Not that she had ever had reason to test that little theory before.

He was kind of her only friend and protector in the Zone so far. It probably would not be a good idea to get on his bad side by depriving him of his beloved writing utensil. That would also mean that he would not really be able to write for her until he found a replacement. Pen and paper just weren't his thing. And she definitely needed the lyrics he was giving her. If he did not have anything, she would need to sing what was on hand, and what was on hand was exactly what she did not want to make public.

Those lyrics were never meant to be sung. They were never meant to be seen by any eyes other than her own. That notebook was her escape, her therapy. Whenever she was having a rough day or remembered some melodic line that brought back memories of touring the country when she was alive and just couldn't take it anymore, she went to the notebook and poured out her heart and her soul.

Those words, that was her—ragged and raw. Untouched and uncensored. It was her story, her pain, her life.

There was no way that she could sing that in front of anyone.

Part of her was sort of secretly glad that he had seen and liked what she had written, but only sort of. She felt more… embarrassed, was it? She felt… exposed because he had seen the innermost workings of her being, the parts she never showed to anyone else. And never wanted to.

That was why she was not going to sing the lyrics that she had written there.

He just didn't understand…

She could tell just from looking at the expression on his face that he wanted to talk her out of her decision, but it was final, dammit. She knew what she was doing on this one. He could stop looking at her like she was a little kid because she was not going to change her mind.

But she was tired of glaring at him. She tried to reign in her emotions and salvage their amiable relationship. The morning had started out so well and getting some work done would clear both of their heads. "Let's just go over what you had, okay?"

Ghost Writer sighed and went to retrieve the lyrics he had written overnight.

She smiled tightly as she took them, but he just shook his head.

He was not one to readily admit it, but her lyrics trumped his a thousand times over. At least, for what she wanted to accomplish…

He had never been one for songwriting, preferring fiction or poetry. But if that first page was anything to go by, the girl was a natural at that sort of thing. Really, those lyrics were exactly what she was looking for. They would catapult her into the fame she desired.

Ever since he had first found her— what, three, four months ago now— wandering aimlessly through the Zone near his haunt, all she had wanted to do was become a star with adoring fans screaming her name. He saw that it was her obsession just as reading and writing was his.

And he remembered how lonely and confused he had been when he first found himself a ghost. If he was honest with himself, how lonely he still was. He had never become close with any of the few other ghosts with whom he came in contact. Their obsessions just had not meshed nor had their personalities clicked.

But he found himself intrigued by this new blue-haired diva. Obviously ready for a life of fame, but still unsure of her way in the afterlife. And she too had an interest in the written word, albeit she was interesting in vocalizing it while he wanted to keep in on the page, but still, they were much closer in interests than he had expected. And her youthful energy balanced out his laidback, almost timid manner. They complimented each other well and he had enjoyed helping her through the snags of ghostdom and getting to know her during the jam sessions she had made him come to.

She had been so sure and so ready to start practicing for her Zone-wide tour that he could not bear to say no when she asked for his help. He provided the lyrics and support while she provided the music.

That dream to be the name on everyone's lips was all she talked about during their breaks. When they stayed through the night in her newly found studio—it was not like they really had anything else to be doing anyway—and he scratched away on his own promptings, she would sit backwards on a chair with her arms resting on the back or leaning against a table strumming her guitar lightly. Her eyes would sparkle and shine as she talked to no end about the rush from a standing ovation. She was practically as giddy as a little girl. He would smile, nod, and pretend to understand what she meant while he was only half-listening as he tried to jot down a few semi-formed sentences.

So she should be jumping at the chance to perform anything that was remotely decent. She was already a good singer; anything that halfway complimented her voice would get her far.

Those words in that folder, they would absolutely make her in the Zone. They would give her that human thrill she was seeking, the audience, the lights, the fame. They would fulfill her dream; give her a handle on her obsession.

They would make people remember who she was.

But she shied away from the merest suggestion of singing those perfect lyrics like it burned her.

Ghost Writer just shook his head and he went to take his seat beside the stage and got ready to listen to another few hours of his words set to her guitar music.

He just didn't understand...


End file.
